


The Right to Bare Arms

by DaintyDuck_99



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bad Puns, Bi Disaster Reggie Peters, Bisexual Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), Boys Kissing, Coming Out, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Getting Together, Himbo Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Pansexual Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Past Alex Mercer/Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Peterpatter, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Sunset Curve (Julie and The Phantoms)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaintyDuck_99/pseuds/DaintyDuck_99
Summary: Alex comes to Reggie’s rescue once more. He swings his legs out of Reggie’s lap and onto the floor, settling in an upright position, and points his drumstick at Luke accusingly.“Are you late to rehearsal because you wanted to cut off your shirt sleeves?”Luke doesn't cut off most of his shirt sleeves until after he and Alex have been broken up for a while, because Alex was 95% of his impulse control. The new look awakens something in Reggie.
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Alex Mercer & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Luke Patterson/Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 194





	The Right to Bare Arms

“Where’s our fearless leader?” Bobby asks through a mouthful of bagel, stepping into the garage.

Alex stops trying to balance his drumstick on his nose, snatching it before it can fall on his face. 

He’s taking up most of the couch, but Reggie’s managed to squeeze himself onto the opposite end by propping Alex’s legs up in his lap. He keeps scribbling country lyrics in the journal he’s balancing on top of them, as it’s not like they can start until Luke shows up, anyway. 

“I’d love to tell you, but all I can say is that he’s not home. I’ve already called twice. You know, if you guys would carry pagers, we could at least communicate some when we aren’t together.” 

“You’re getting kind of worked up, dude,” Reggie tells him gently, poking Alex’s foot in retaliation for the sudden fit of jiggling that turned his “i” into an “l.” 

Alex scrunches his nose. It’s his patented _I care about you idiots, so the least you could do is have a little self-preservation_ face. 

He and Luke may have broken up a little while ago, but things aren’t weird between them, thankfully, and Reggie’s glad that Alex is still being his usual self. 

“I’m sure Luke is fine,” Reggie adds, abandoning his journal completely when the pinched look doesn’t leave Alex’s face. He pats Alex’s leg.

Bobby shrugs, tearing the bagel out of his mouth. He leans against the wall. 

“I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t been late before. Maybe he booked another gig.” 

“Maybe,” Alex relents, but his foot is drumming against the end of the couch again.

Reggie distracts them—mostly Alex, really—by launching into a story about his English class. 

“—kept telling me where his thesis was, as if that made up for the fact that it was so unclear, I couldn’t find it by reading his paper. 

“Like, while Ms. Francus is grading it, pen in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other, you’re not gonna be standing over her shoulder so you can tell her where your thesis is, Brad.” 

“Brad sounds like a douche,” Luke chimes in. 

“Thank you!” Reggie exclaims, vindicated. 

Then he catches sight of Luke, and his mouth goes dry. If it weren’t for the weight of Alex’s legs in his lap, Reggie might’ve tumbled off of the couch.

Luke is an objectively attractive guy, what with his scruffy mop of caramel-colored hair, his shining, kaleidoscopic eyes, and his warm, magnetic smile. The girls who come to their gigs typically flock to him for a reason. None of that is new to Reggie. 

What is new, however, is the lack of sleeves to contain Luke’s bulging biceps. The realization strikes Reggie like a bolt of lightning—Luke is ridiculously fit. His _Rush_ t-shirt, which definitely had sleeves before, stops at his shoulders, and Reggie can _see_ all of the detail in his arms.

He’d noticed that Luke has nice arms, before, but only distantly. He's never been so aware of it. His heart is trying to hammer its way up into his throat, and his face feels like it’s on fire.

Reggie swallows, but all of his questions still stumble over one another.

“How did—when—why?” 

Alex comes to Reggie’s rescue once more. He swings his legs out of Reggie’s lap and onto the floor, settling in an upright position, and points his drumstick at Luke accusingly. 

“Are you late to rehearsal because you wanted to cut off your shirt sleeves?” 

Luke fiddles with the hem of said shirt, inadvertently revealing a sliver of his stomach. 

There must be something wrong with the air in the garage, Reggie thinks hazily. He should ask Bobby to set up a carbon monoxide detector out here. 

“Well, it sounds kind of dumb when you put it like that,” Luke mutters.

Alex looks like he’s about two seconds away from screeching IT IS, but to his credit, he doesn’t.

“It couldn’t have waited, man? We were about to page 911 over your missing ass,” Bobby jokes.

Alex massages his temples like he’s trying to lend the rest of them his brain cells. Maybe he is.

“I think it’s rad, bro,” Reggie blurts out. 

Drawing attention to himself is worth it when Luke’s eyes light up. They’re very green today, but they still crackle with amber and blue-gray flecks. He grins, bouncing on his toes.

“See? Reggie likes my shirt,” Luke announces, spreading his arms out wide. 

Luke has to be like, crazy strong, Reggie guesses. He could probably carry a super big dog, or throw a frisbee insanely far, or pin someone up against a wall pretty effectively— 

He tugs idly at the collar of his leather jacket. That was—it’s getting pretty hot.

“It’s less about the shirt and more about time management,” Alex retorts. 

“Yeah, dude,” Bobby calls, walking across the room to retrieve his guitar, “what is it that all of the beach bros say? Suns out, guns out, or whatever? We support the sleeveless agenda, that’s not a problem.” 

“The right to bare arms,” Reggie agrees, nodding a little dumbly, but it startles a genuine laugh out of Luke. 

“Hell yeah, man,” Luke cheers, bounding up to Reggie and pulling him off of the couch with ease, squeezing his shoulders, “I knew you’d back me up.” 

The fluid momentum of being hoisted into Luke’s arms so effortlessly causes the blood in Reggie’s body to travel south so quickly that he’s shocked he doesn’t actually pass out, though he does sway on the spot a bit. 

Bobby snorts, and Alex sighs like his soul is leaving his body.

“Okay, could you at least promise not to be late in the name of ‘the sleeveless agenda’ anymore? Besides, isn’t your mom going to kill you?” 

Luke shrugs, but the way he sucks his lower lip into his mouth betrays him. He definitely still cares what his mom thinks, even if they’ve been fighting some lately. 

“You—” 

Shit, Reggie’s voice hasn’t cracked this badly since he asked Melissa to go to the spring dance with him in the seventh grade. 

“You could always wear layers,” Reggie continues, hoping to soothe Luke and his own sanity with the suggestion. 

Luke squeezes Reggie’s shoulders again before letting go. He stops torturing his bottom lip, so there’s that, at least. 

“Yeah, I guess so, Reg. Thanks. Are you okay?” 

Reggie clears his throat and rubs his arms, subtly attempting to flex the muscles enough to force his blood to flow literally anywhere else.

“Yes! Yeah, I’m so fine, totally. I’m just allergic to Bobby.” 

Bobby flips him off with an obligatory “fuck you, dude,” but there’s no heat behind it. 

Alex keeps shooting him concerned looks throughout rehearsal, but Reggie valiantly attempts to ignore them and Luke’s stupidly attractive sweaty arms until he can escape the garage. 

He probably should talk to Alex at some point, but it’s all too much and too soon. 

His half-crazed theory about the garage being full of poisonous gas or aphrodisiacs is quickly proven wrong, as he continues to be fascinated by Luke’s muscles wherever he sees them: at the Patterson’s house, under the stage lights, on the beach, in the hallways at school. 

Reggie runs into a locker three separate times after getting ambushed by sleeveless Luke at school, at which point he has to accept that he’s into one of his best friends. 

What can he say? The man is evenly yoked.* 

Alex finally corners Reggie after school on the day of the third locker fiasco. He’s leaning on the hood of Reggie’s car, twirling the keys between his fingers. 

“How did you get those?” Reggie demands. 

“I’ve had these since history class, Reg,” Alex tells him, “ you’ve been pretty distracted today.” 

Reggie holds out his hands in defeat, and Alex relinquishes his keys with a toss. 

Freddie Mercury croons quietly in the background as they make their way towards the Mercer house. Alex hums along, and Reggie waits, hands clammy on the wheel.

“You know, it’s okay if you’re interested in Luke,” Alex says when the song ends. 

Reggie almost misses the next light, slamming on the brakes. 

“Dude!” Alex hisses, readjusting his seatbelt. He sighs, reaching over to pat Reggie’s arm.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure how to lead up to it. I just need you to know that it’s okay. You’ve been acting so scared and so lost for this last month, and we’re all worried about you. I’m pretty sure Luke thinks he’s done something to upset you. The light is green now, by the way.” 

Reggie takes a deep breath before he allows himself to do anything else, and then they’re rolling.

“I’ve accepted that I like him,” Reggie admits, “but I hate how confusing this is. I still like girls, but then there’s also River Phoenix, I guess? And it makes me wonder if I’ve always liked Luke and just didn’t know it, but that sounds dumb.”

“Plus,” he swallows, stealing a glance at Alex, “you and Luke were still dating like, six months ago. Doesn’t that make me kind of an asshole?” 

“Reg,” Alex starts seriously, nothing but compassion in his voice, “it really doesn’t. You didn’t consciously decide to be attracted to Luke. 

“Even if he and I were still together, I know you wouldn’t try to break us up. Besides, we broke up because we work better as friends. He’s definitely had a similar interest in you for even longer, he just never thought you’d be an option. I mean, he wrote "Crooked Teeth" about you ages ago.”

“But the girls?” Reggie asks, still trying to wrap his head around everything, let alone the fact that Luke wrote a song for him. 

“You can like both. It’s totally a thing, I’ve come across it doing my own research. It’s called being bisexual. A lot of people think Freddie Mercury is,” Alex responds like it’s the simplest thing in the world, nodding at the radio. 

He seems to realize that Reggie needs a moment, so he launches into a speech about ‘compulsory heterosexuality’ and how romantic and platonic love are both valid. 

“Alex,” Reggie interrupts, hastily wiping at his face, “I get it, thanks. I love you, man.” 

Alex smiles, and his own eyes are a little cloudy and damp. He leans over the console to give Reggie a tight hug. “I love you, too.”

Things are a lot better after that, but Reggie still finds himself being too flustered around Luke to function. The physical element of it all is just so fresh. 

He discovers Luke lying by his side on the garage floor about a week after his conversation with Alex, grinning like Reggie’s invented the greatest game ever. 

“I—why are we laying on the ground?” Reggie croaks. 

“You crashed into the garage door like you were trying to phase through it, dude. So I laid down next to you in case Bobby came back out here. I figured he might think we were just chilling.”

Luke sits up, offering Reggie a hand, and they’re on their feet before the fluttering in Reggie’s stomach can transform into embarrassment. 

He grasps Reggie’s hand a little tighter as he tries to pull away, rings creating a cool contrast in the places where they separate their skin. He searches Reggie’s face, eyes amber and languid like warm honey, the world’s best medicine. 

“I don’t think you’re concussed,” he mumbles, bringing his other hand up to tilt Reggie’s jaw from side to side. 

“I’m fine, Luke, really,” Reggie protests weakly. 

Luke frowns, and the hand that’s not gripping Reggie’s stills over the frantic pulse jumping in his jugular. Reggie’s cheeks, which are surely blanketed in pink, must also give him away. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, Reggie. Am I bothering you?” 

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Reggie mutters.

Luke’s lips part in surprise, eyebrows shooting up. He recovers quickly, mouth curling up into a smirk, although a splotch of red lingers beneath his eyes and over the bridge of his nose. 

It’s the same smirk that graces his lips when he sings, when he trails a hand out the car window as he drives, when he’s about to suggest something equally wonderful and absurd. 

Reggie can’t take it anymore. Waves of admiration and attraction, new and old, surge through him as he answers the magnetic pull of Luke Patterson, connecting their lips in a fierce kiss.

No wonder Luke bites his own lower lip all of the time, Reggie thinks as Luke snags Reggie’s between his teeth, because it feels fucking amazing. 

“It was the shirts, huh?” Luke asks when they break apart, still breathless. 

Reggie hums, knowing that the suspense is killing Luke. 

“Come on, Reginald,” he whines, “just admit that I was your bicep-tual awakening.” 

“How long have you been waiting to lay that on me?” Reggie deflects, reaching up to poke at said muscles playfully because he can _touch_ them, now. 

“For a few weeks? I mean, I’ve wanted to lay a lot of things on you ever since you got this.” 

Luke tugs at the collar of Reggie’s leather jacket, reeling him in for another series of kisses. 

“We’re going to be insufferable, right?” Reggie checks who knows how long later, panting. 

“With the PDA and the puns? Hell yeah, we’re gonna be the worst,” Luke agrees, and Reggie has to laugh. 

**Author's Note:**

> *Jeremy recently [described](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHeJgg6moTo&t=824s) Chris Hemsworth like this, lmao (that part specifically is at like 6:46). 
> 
> Also, [Guys](https://open.spotify.com/track/1qQJWohzIrKMNIz6pyyKYw?si=1KuFmaQdSrWydct1brLYAw) by the 1975 is a very fitting song for this story. :)


End file.
